


Do Lunatics Dream of Barbed Wire Sheep?

by LCNH1



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 12:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17508377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LCNH1/pseuds/LCNH1
Summary: Back in September I came across an interview with Dean Ambrose regarding his extended absence during his tricep injury. I was alarmed to hear we almost lost Dean to a MRSA infection from the initial surgery.Like any sane person, Dean probably wasn't thrilled about having to go back to the OR.  Wonder what was going on in his head during that second procedure.(originally published at angrymarks.com)





	Do Lunatics Dream of Barbed Wire Sheep?

**Author's Note:**

> For Best Results, please read in Dean Ambrose's voice.

 

They put me back under to get to the infection in my arm.   
  
They saw me roll my eyes a couple of times before the lights go out on me.  
  
I swear I just blinked. Woke up three days later in a different room. Hey, I'm used to that.  
  
It was just the in-between that kinda got me.  
  
I don't dream much, but whatever they used knocked me out pretty good. So when the dream started, I wasn't really sure where I was. Again, used to that.  
  
This time I'm standing on the side of a two lane highway with nothin but the clothes on my back and one of my old gear bags. Nothin for miles either way. Nothin to do but pick up the bag, put a thumb out and see where I'm goin.  
  
Walked that road about an hour when I hear a motorcycle comin. Big Harley, really REALLY loud engine. I look over my shoulder and I can see the guy ridin it - no helmet, sunglasses, and a smile. Not the giddy happy smile- the "Fuck all of ya, this is MINE" kinda smile. I nod back at him and he pulls over. He's still grinnin at me like he KNOWS me.   
  
Then I realized it was Pillman. Loose cannon, from my area. but he'd died 20 years ago... or was that a worked shoot? We do the usual, shake hands, bump shoulders. I grab my bag and ask him "this is the part where I ride bitch with you into the sunset?"  
  
"I ain't your ride, brother," he kinda laughed. "Just represent. I got your back." and he drove off.  
  
He's got my back and leaves me by the side of the road? stupid rib, put my thumb out again.   
  
Walk another hour, big ol SUV pulls up. Big tricked out deal, can hear the music thumpin inside. I walk up to the driver's side window and I SWEAR I thought Roman was driving.   
  
So I'm standing there doing a double-take at some big Samoan smilin at me like this is some kinda joke. He rolls the window down and it turns out I'm lookin at a REAL Big Dog - Roman's older brother, what he wrestle as.... Ronald? Rudy? Rosey, that's it. He wasn't dressed up or anything. Turned the music down so we could talk a bit.   
  
"Pretty sweet ride," I say after we talk stuff for a bit. "This the part where I pass out in the back seat and you drive me off into the sunset?"  
  
"I ain't your ride, brother," he shrugged. "Roman's gonna be mad if you did that."  
  
All right, so I still don't have a lift or know where the hell I'm going!  
  
Put my thumb out one more time, waiting for Paul Bearer to pull up in a hearse or somethin. Next car that came through was a rough old beater, didn't sound like it was gonna make it out of wherever I was. Finally pulls off the road, smoke or steam comin out of it.   
  
So being the good man that I am I walk up to the car. "You ok, mister?"  
  
"Does it LOOK okay??" the driver shouts back at me and gestures at the hood.   
  
"All right, all right, I'll take a look." drop the bag, pop the hood. Yeah, it'd seen better days.   
  
Go back to the driver and get a good look at him.  
  
"Can ya fix it or am I gonna be stuck out here with you?"  
  
Now I'm REALLY confused. The hell is Piper out here? Where's he headed? Why's he alone?  
  
"Pop the trunk, man. If there's tools I can try and make it work."  
  
"I don't even know what's in the back seat!" but he pops the trunk.  
  
Old tools. Old car. Yeah, been here, done that. I always drove old beaters so that I could fix em myself. Made my travel easier and cheaper, tow trucks will rip you off for all kinda crap.  
  
So I tinker around a bit and Piper gets out of the car and rushin me, rushin me, hurry up and fix it, blah blah blah - I look up and say "I'm guessin you're not my ride either!"  
  
Piper gets that glimmer in his eye and points at me. "aha, that's what YOU think! You fix this bucket o bolts and take it for all I care!" he goes to the trunk, grabs a duffel and starts walkin away. "Good Luck!"  
  
"Where you goin? I'm almost done!"  
  
"I'm not in a hurry. Just take the damn thing."  
  
Ok, fine, so I fix her up and throw my bag in. Starts right up, I get on the road. Drive for a bit, don't see nobody for a hundred miles.   
  
The sun was coming down. Lights on my horizon.  
  
Yeah. I don't need no one's ride, brother. I made mine.  
  
I'm used to that.


End file.
